kore_logs | And then things were 'normal'

Who: The Doctor, open to all
When: Days 64-66, a catch all for anyone interested
Where: Around town
What: A catch-all/open thread for those wishing to interact with the Doctor
Warnings: None, will update if need to

A fixed-up portable record player and taped up record later, the Doctor was sitting at a table outside with papers spread around him and listening to a warped (literally as the record was indeed not a flat disk) rendition of Debussy's Clair de Lune. As much as he had been keeping to himself, he was content being a Time Lord once again. Taking that first breath when his eyes opened and his hearts pounded, with the noise and static of time lines and endless possibilities surrounding him, it was comforting.

He had tried analyzing his notes previously about the wind and the data he had collected, but he couldn't grasp the concepts of analysis as a human. It was just looking at numbers and random notes, and even then he struggled to process as half of them were written in his native Gallifreyan. "Numbers and figures..." He commented, humming a Coldplay tune for a moment as he chewed on the end of his pen, lost in thought.

But he was determined to help his friends here; to find a way out as he had once before.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"There do seem to be some very charming people here." Fortescue winks once at him, before sobering up just a little. "I meant what I said before — if I can be of any help, simply let me know. I'm used to traveling as well. If I sit around very long, I'm probably going to embarrass myself."

Or go off and kill things until she felt better, but she decides not to voice that particular thought.

With a smile he nods, "I appreciate it, Fortescue. I do." He looks at the various scribbles of notes peaking through under Jazz, "I think I might be on to something here, and I really hope I am. It might not be a big something, but even something minute will be helpful."

"'Every little bit counts', or so goes the saying." Especially when you were dealing with what they were. Total and complete control over a location. Jazz sniffs the breeze, looking perfectly content to be a paperweight. "All joking aside, I could see how this would be a quaint little spot to stay in. If it was, you know, inhabited."

His eyes narrow and he looks like he's really thinking hard about it, "Maybe if they added a shop or two, it'd be lovely." Actually, he very much would come here, if anything to explore whatever is the deal with that woods.

The whole place was quite a mystery he'd like to solve.

"Just as long as they didn't sell sea shells. It might be too much," she notes, dryly. "Have the houses always looked like they were abandoned in a hurry? Like someone, or something, evicted them?"

"As far as I'm aware, yes." There's a pause, "And it looks like it's been like that for a long time. The technology here is primitive at best, like the 1970s if I were to guess."

At least, beyond the cameras, that seemed to be the case.

"Perhaps it is the nineteen seventies." Fortescue cocks her head to the side, thoughtful. "I've just come from nineteen forty-one, after all. These people clearly have some control over time, whether incidental or not."

"Maybe... But I don't think it is. It doesn't... smell like it in the very least." Yes, each decade had a smell. Don't ask, it's complicated.

"Oh, I think it's incidental, and they'll be sorry when I figure things out." He hadn't meant to suddenly turn dark and serious, but it was the nature of a Time Lord.

Sorry, Doctor. You're getting a Look of raised eyebrows and confusion.

"It doesn't smell like the seventies?"

"Yes, that's what I said." He nods enthusiastically. "It smells a fishy." He looks serious and then begins laughing, "Ok, that was a joke, but yes, each decade and era has a smell to it."

A shrug.

"I'm pretty good at discerning perfumes and cologne, but eras are pretty spectacular," Fortescue notes, not sure whether to classify this as 'potentially insane' or 'delightfully mad'. "You must have good senses."

Both. Definitely both. "Ah, I do!" He's so humble too.

He winks at her, "I'm getting close to figuring it out, I think. I really... I'll get us out. I've escaped somehow once before, I can do it again."

She chuckles, before getting somewhat distracted by that last part. "You've escaped before? ...And they brought you back?"

He nods, "I don't remember any details of it, but yes." He wished he did, he really did.

Well, that was just... completely disheartening. Fortescue frowns. It's hard to get any traction in a place like this, where you can just be summoned and people disappear on a regular basis. "Did they wipe your memory of it?"

He meets her gaze, holding it steady for a moment, musing that her eyes were as dark as his. Then there's a shrug and a sigh, "I don't know. I don't remember what I did to get out; I don't remember what happened when I went 'home'; and I certainly don't remember how I returned."

How was that for comforting?

"I see." It's about as comforting as anything else here. Which is to say, not much. Fortescue nods slowly. "Hopefully future efforts go more smoothly." She offers a smile, though it's strained from the topic of conversation. Being trapped is unpleasant. "We should let you get back to your work."

"Mm, right." he nods and taps a little drum beat on the table. "If you ever want to visit or need anything, let me know."

"I will." She raises her arm slightly to Jazz, who seems to take it as a cue to leap up onto her shoulders and curl back around her neck. "Good luck."

And then things were 'normal'

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